Reverence of Memory
by Keketra
Summary: Even great Kings can fail to remember. AU


**Reverence of Memory  
**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Narnia, or her characters; they belong to CS Lewis, and the CS Lewis estate.

**Summary: **In the darkness of her dungeon, he tries to remember

Once, a long time ago, I believed in hope. I believed in retribution, in forgiveness, in love and happiness. I believed that there was a world beyond the consistent hell of England, one where righteousness and common decency were still considered normal, where children could be children still, and where families supported each other, no matter what. How ridiculous that seems now. How strange to realise that, after all, it is not true.

Let me start from the beginning.

I have always been here, in the dark. I belong here, you see, never to be seen, never to be heard. She graces me with Her presence, and I, her servant and sinner, must be grateful for Her mere presence. The hours, days, years, tick by, and She is often all I see, all I know. Sometimes the dwarf comes, but often he is cruel, often he mocks me; as of course he has every right to. Everything is dark here, and I am grateful for it. In the darkness, one can forget. In the darkness, one can cease to exist, forever slipping through the cracks of time, of reality. Sometimes I dream; I dream of another place, another world, where I am known, where others wish to know me. I do not tell Her of these dreams, though I think She knows. I must be a fool if I believe that I can keep anything from Her, after all.

I apologise; I seem to have gotten off track.

In all honesty, I am not all that sure where the beginning is. I know that I was not born here, in the dark. Or at least… I do not think I was. I have a memory, a precious memory, one She attempts to rip from me consistently, that I cannot share. But I think – I think I was loved, I think I was loved. Please, do not misunderstand me… I am grateful to be here. I understand the danger She has undertaken in keeping me here, in allowing me her sanctuary. I am grateful. But sometimes—

Sometimes, at night, when the dark is at its very worst, and when the ghosts whisper to me, I cannot help but lose myself in dreams, in hopes. Foolish, yes, but oh, how I wish— sometimes, in the darkest of nights, I swear I hear a Lion roar.

Perhaps, if I ask, tomorrow She will let me out. She always promises, you see. Promises that I may see the sun, that I may taste the air, see the skies for myself. She dangles hope in front of me like a kitten with a piece of string, and I, the hapless, faithless mongrel that I am, I fall every time. I cannot help myself. Even the devil may dream of redemption, after all. (Though who the devil may be, I am not entirely sure… something from a memory, a dream, perhaps. Or another of Her tricks.)

I am so sorry… I think I got lost again. Did I thank you for coming? I should – it is impolite to do otherwise. Another thing I am not entirely sure about… for She sneers at such things. Still, though, I deem it impolite. Please, accept my gracious thanks. It is lonely in these dark places, though I suppose I ought to be used to that by now, oughtn't I? I suppose She let you in here, yes? If not, there'll be trouble… there always is when others get in.

Still though, it's nice to finally talk to someone. You seem nice, if not a bit quiet. Strange, really…. I've never met such a silent person before. But then, I've never really met that many people.

{A}{A}{A}

It smells of death in here.

A horrible reek of several unpleasant things, and part of me wants to run, run away, but I have a duty. After all, if it were not for me, he would not even be in here. God, Aslan, whatever powers there are in this world… please preserve him. Keep him safe, just a little longer.

The Castle is deserted; no trace of anything but the linger of evil, and that horrid, rancid smell. Thank-goodness Oreius had the sense to convince the girls to stay at the Cair, for they would have been heartbroken at this sight. Part of me hopes he is not here, for no one should have to endure this. Still though, he's always been strong willed, and just perhaps –

Wait! There, what is…

Oh Aslan, _no_. Please, no.

Heart pounding and eyes blurring strangely, I all but stumble over to where he is chained to a large block of ice, dirty and long-haired. Oh brother, oh my King! What has been done to you? Guilt chokes at me, but I cannot focus on that, not just now. A hand to his cheek; he flinches, starting his gaze from the wall, and onto me. A few seconds of blankness, and then a slow, distant smile. "Here again, are we?" I swallow hard, biting my lip, not quite understanding. "She won't be happy, you know," he states quietly. "She doesn't allow strangers… you should go. You're only in my mind, anyway. You should go."

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath, steadying myself, steeling my courage. "No, brother." I promise, and move forward, grabbing at the chains. I wince at the biting cold of them, taking a deep breath before yanking on them thrice, grateful to see the block of ice shatter, somewhat freeing my brother. The chains will have to come off, of course, but I have neither the strength nor the weapon to do such a thing. Hopefully, though, one of our kinsmen will do the deed before long. Meanwhile… my brother is freezing. Without a thought, my cloak becomes his, for he needs it far more. "Come, we are returning home." I state softly, and his eyes flicker in brief surprise, before he gives a cracked, clearly unpractised, half laugh.

"I am home."

My heart clenches at that simple phrase, but I will not waver; not now. Later, but not now. "Phillip," I call unsteadily, and the faithful Horse is soon by our side, warily picking his way through the Castle. I had not wanted to bring him into this place, but my brother is far too weak to walk. I take a slow breath, rising to my feet and gently forcing my brother and King to his, catching him before he slides to the ground. After some tarry, we manage to get us both aboard Phillip's back, and I take a slow breath, a little comforted by the fact that finally, our quest is done. "Home, Phillip." I request, and the Horse whinneys, before trotting silently but quickly from the House.

With my brother in front of me, and the last of Jadis' evil behind me, I can only pray that Narnia's light can bring Peter back, for if it cannot, we all are lost. Perhaps, though, with the Lion at our side, and the warmth of home, Peter will, in time, return to himself. Either way, I will be there for him, as I was never before; his shield in times to come, even if he never remembers who I am. And perhaps, one day, we will both remember who we are.

_Finis._

**Author's N: **Thoughts and criticisms, dear readers, are much appreciated, as always.


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